


[No Comment]

by mishagusta



Category: Supernatural, Ten Inch Hero
Genre: Alcohol, Anxiety, M/M, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-09 05:49:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishagusta/pseuds/mishagusta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel Novak walks into Beach City Grill one sunny afternoon...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Links to Castiel's and Priestly's mixtapes on my Tumblr!
> 
> \- http://castiel-priestly.tumblr.com/post/51758723635/no-comment-soundtrack

Chapter One

“Castiel Novak?” Castiel pulled his head out of the clouds and into the waiting room as a polite voice called his name. He looked up to see a middle-aged red-haired woman in a pantsuit smiling as he stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants and reached for his briefcase.

“I’m Naomi.” She reached out and he shook it, forcing himself to maintain eye contact and keep his back straight. Her grip was a little too tight for comfort, and cold. “Follow me to my office, please.” 

She led the way down the hallway, pantsuit rustling. The walls were lined with photos of the Santa Cruz shoreline. She held the door open for Castiel as he entered, waiting to be offered a seat.

“Please, take a seat.” Naomi beckoned as she crossed to her chair and sat down, scooting her chair forward and clasping her hands together in front of her on the desk. She had a very stern, professional smile. Castiel wondered briefly what she did for fun before forcing himself to refocus on her face.

“Beautiful view you... uh have here.” Castiel beckoned to the window behind her, showing a small courtyard in the middle of the University.

“Thank you, yes” she said stiffly without turning “So, do you have a résumé?”

“Oh, yes… Let me just-“ Castiel blushed and bent over to reach for his briefcase, stumbling over the clasp. Naomi waited patiently. He handed her the single sheet with a quaking hand. His knee bounced as she looked over it.

“Well you don’t have much, but what you do have is impressive, I must say. Worked for two years in publishing, after finishing grad school at the University of Seattle, editor of your college newspaper, and oh how nice, even a few published poems.” She looked up and smiled. Castiel returned it unwillingly. He didn’t like her smile. It was condescending, like a magpie, or a fox.

“Yes, I enjoy writing very much.” He ran a nervous hand over his freshly shaven mouth.

“Well, I would certainly hope so.” She continued to read as Castiel eyeballed the room. A large bookcase filled with important and difficult looking books stood to his right, and a wall of framed certificates and awards on the left, over the desk. There were no family pictures or anything remotely resembling decoration. The only sounds were those of the standard clock ticking away on the wall, and the hum of the air conditioner.

“So, Mr. Novak-“

“Please, Castiel.”

“Castiel, what brings you to Santa Cruz? You seem to have been doing wonderfully in Seattle.” Castiel’s stomach flared. ’Oh, nothing, just a messy breakup, a crazy ex-boyfriend and an unshakable stormcloud over my head. Literally. Not to mention a recently developed case of anxiety that renders me catatonic at it’s worst and a bit sweaty at it’s best.’ He thought, but heard himself say “Just needed a change of scenery” instead.

“Interesting. And what brought you to UC Santa Cruz, specifically?” Castiel swallowed under her predatory gaze.

“I need a job with flexible hours – one I can work from home with. Grading student’s essays would be perfect. I enjoy editing and I would say I’m certainly prepared for it.”

“Well I should say! One might even say you’re overqualified to grade essays.” Castiel’s eyes widened in fear. He couldn’t go through this entire application process again with another job. The anxiety was near crippling. He needed this job so he could stay in his apartment by himself. Naomi studied his face for a few moments before continuing.

“However, I don’t believe in over qualification. You seem to be a nice fit for the position, exactly what we’re looking for if not more. You’re hired.” Castiel’s shoulders relaxed as he exhaled.

“You’ll be working directly with the professors, never the students. Collecting the essays from them and returning them within a time frame of their choosing. We’re happy to have you, Castiel.” She reached a hand across the desk and Castiel shook it once again. Here handshake was just as tight and cold the second time. “You start when the semester starts.” She started to write something.

“Thank you so much, I-“

“Of course. Would you send my next appointment in on your way out?” Naomi said robotically without looking up.

“Yes” Castiel stood up quickly and opened the door to leave. “Thank you.” He shut the door behind him and took a few deep breaths in the hallway, suddenly realizing just how hungry he was.

…

The door to Beach City Grill opened with a soft metallic clang, signaling Castiel’s entrance as the smell of fast food rushed to his nostrils. He paused, taking in the sight of the quaint restaurant before him. A very beautiful waitress chatted with a flustered looking man in a booth. A girl, donning paint-smeared overalls and a red bandana leaned precariously on a stool as she painted what seemed to be a beach scene in progress on the wall. A crinkly-eyed, middle-aged man slouched casually against the register, reading a well-worn paperback. A nice-looking girl smiled from behind the counter, and a very bright mohawk whistled along to the sound of Elvis playing in the background, his back to the man as he busied himself with the sizzling grill. Castiel felt strangely relaxed, a feeling that only came when he’d visited a place many times before.

“I’m telling you, Piper. Elvis is alive.” Said the mohawk to overalls, “The King of rock n’ roll is alive and well, in my heart.” Piper laughed.

“Sorry, but that would imply you had a heart to begin with.” Crinkly-eyes chuckled as mohawk gripped his chest in feigned agony, gasping.

“Hello!” chimed the girl behind the computer quietly, “What can I get you?” Castiel approached the counter carefully, reaching for a small pamphlet menu and choosing the first thing he saw.

“I’ll have the… ten inch meatball mozzarella sub, please.” He said in a rush, his mouth dry.

“Sure thing.” She smiled. “Can I get a name for your order?” the man blushed. His unusual name tended to raise questions.

“Castiel.” He spoke quietly. The girl met his eyes and smiled, but to Castiel’s relief didn’t ask any questions.

“Order up! Ten inch meatball mozzarella for Castiel!”

“You got it.” Growled mohawk, his voice deep. He resumed his whistling without looking up from the grill.

“So Castiel, don’t you think it’s a bit hot to be wearing a suit and trench coat?” Castiel would normally be embarrassed by small talk with strangers, but her tone was light and anything but patronizing. He passed his credit card to her with a shaky hand.

“I just came from a job interview… stopped by for lunch before returning to my apartment to unpack some more. I moved here from Seattle about a week ago and have yet to trust this sunny weather.” Castiel managed to say this without stuttering, and felt a small sense of pride. The girl continued to smile. He liked her kind smile and the way it made itself at home on her round face.

“Seattle, huh? What brings you to Santa Cruz?” His stomach flared again, his thoughts returning to Balthazar and the huge fight that had ended it all. Reflexively, he repeated the “I needed a change of scenery” line and smiled back.

“Well you came right at the peak of surf season. Do you surf-“

“One meatball mozzarella for Cas-“ mohawk turned on his heel, sandwich in hand, stopping midsentence as he caught Castiel’s eyes, which widened in response.

The man was quite a sight – piercings decorated his face, framed by a dramatic set of sideburns and topped by a bright red mohawk, but what really sucked the air out of Castiel’s lungs were his eyes. The man had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen; wide and green as the moss that could be found on every tree in Seattle, encased by dark lashes. They pulled Castiel in and refused to let go.

The computer girl glanced back and forth between them, their stare remaining unbroken for a few moments before clearing her throat. Castiel snapped back to reality, blushing a violent red. He took the sandwich from mohawk, his heart racing as his hand brushed the man’s wrist for a brief second. Castiel mumbled a mousy ‘thank you’ and turned to leave.

“Good luck with the job, Castiel!” the computer girl called after him, but he was gone with another metallic clang. Elvis sang uninterrupted for a few seconds as they stared after him.

“Do you… know each other?” mohawk continued to stare after him.

“Priestly… PRIESTLY.” His eyes refocused, eyebrows raised. 

“What, Jen?”

“What was that about? You could cut the tension between you and him with a knife.”

“Even I noticed. Did you want me to get his number for you?” sang the waitress as she sauntered past to the backroom.

“Har har, Tish.” Priestly returned to the grill, his thoughts remaining fixed on the blue-eyed bedhead as Elvis carried on unphased, and the patties burned.

…

Castiel barely made it back to his apartment before the panic attack took full-force, taking a full fifteen seconds to get the damn key in the lock. He slammed the door behind him, tossing his keys and his sandwich onto the kitchen table as he stripped. Trench coat, pants, suit jacket, shirt, tie, socks, and underwear, let in a trail through the box-filled living room to the bathroom. He was sweating profusely, breaths coming out in ragged gasps. He turned on the shower head and sat, hugging his knees on the floor of the bathtub.

Castiel had no idea what had happened back in that sandwich shop. His panic attacks had been especially rampant lately, although his psychiatrist had said that was to be expected with the breakup and move. One look at that mohawked fry cook and he was rendered catatonic? He didn’t even catch his name! Was he crazier than he thought?

Castiel sat until the water – and his sandwich – went cold.


	2. Chapter 2

Priestly couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. Jen, Piper, and Tish bustled around him, having to repeat customers’ orders two or three times before he realized they were speaking to him. Billy Idol played distractedly in the background as visions of Castiel ran rampant through his head. That dorky trench coat… his unruly dark hair… those sapphire eyes that pulled him in and refused to let go…

“Priestly! Are you messing these orders up on purpose?” Tish snapped, bringing Priestly out of his reverie. He stared blankly at Tish for a moment and she stared back, eyes darting back and forth between Priestly’s with her eyebrows raised. She tossed her hands and stomped off the fix the order herself.

“What’s going on, Priestly? That’s the third wrong order today and I’ve never seen you screw up an order before. You okay?” Jen asked, turning towards him on her stool.

“I’m fine.” Priestly sniffed, stirring a pot of soup with his back to her.

“Now that I think about it, you were your snarky old self until lunchtime, when Castiel came in. You’ve been distracted since—“

“Jen” Priestly swiveled to face her “I’m fine. I’m just tired, okay? I was up pretty late last night on the phone with Sammy.” Which was true, Priestly had talked to his little brother away at college last night, but the conversation had ended by ten and he’d gone to bed by eleven. Priestly turned back around and busied himself with the soup once more.

“Alright well, just saying… he was super cute—“

“And you guys were totally eye fucking each other.” Piper sang from across the shop, where she’d been painting all day. Jen burst out into bubbly laughter.

“GUYS” Priestly shouted, dropping the ladel with a clash, “I’m just really fucking tired, alright?” 

His eyes scrutinized the now silent shop, Jen’s laughter stopped but her mouth still open, Piper frozen atop the stool, Trucker pulling off his reading glasses and looking up from his writing in one of the booths. Tish paused on her way out of the backroom, suddenly aware of the thick atmosphere.

“Maybe you should take the rest of the night off, Priestly.” Trucker suggested.

“I don’t need to take the night off, really, I’m fine—“ his tense shoulders fell.

“That wasn’t a request, Priestly. Go home and get some rest. I’ll finish cooking tonight. I did it for six years before I hired you.” Trucker scooted out of the booth and stood up.

“But—“

“Goodnight, Priestly. We’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. “ Everybody watched Priestly in silence as Billy Idol sang away in the background.

“Fine.” He huffed, pulling his apron over his head and tossing it on the counter. He snatched his bag from underneath the register and stormed out, shoving the door open with a loud clang of the bell.

The cool night air met Priestly’s face and he felt instantly calmer. He turned left and around the corner of Beach City Grill to his car; a black 1967 Chevy Impala. After his brother, Priestly loved this car more than anything in the world, left to his possession when his father died.

Priestly climbed in and dug through his bag for a few seconds for his cigarettes and lighter, flicking it alight and dragging deeply. So much for quitting. He leaned his head back against the bench seat and blew the smoke out slowly, even puffing out a few rings. He shouldn’t have yelled at them. They had meant no harm, and yes, he was certainly checking out Castiel. He felt a small pang in the pit of his stomach at the thought of checking out another man and his father’s harsh words ran through his head.

Priestly placed his cigarette between his lips as he started the car, roaring to life to his delight. He’d had this car for seven years, and not once had he been disappointed when he turned the ignition. The throaty growl was invigorating.

It took every ounce of Priestly’s concentration not to crash while driving. His thoughts flicked between Castiel, the confrontation in the shop, and now his father. He forced himself to focus on the road, puffing at his cigarette with the windows down, until he could go home and think.

His Elvis tape played softly in the background, and Priestly whistled along. His thoughts wandered to Castiel, wondering if he liked Elvis and what song was his favorite. He shook his head and took another puff, holding the smoke in his lungs for a beat longer than normal. He was already planning on getting drunk once he got home.

Minutes later, Priestly pulled into his driveway. He lived in a small, humble bungalow, pissing distance from the beach. His boots echoed against the side of the house as he made his way to the front door, fingers fumbling at the lock for a few seconds before managing to get the key in the damn lock. The door opened with squeak that resounded as it closed behind him. He didn’t even bother turning on the lights, going straight for the alcohol cabinet, grabbing a bottle of Jack, and heading to the back porch. He sat down on the chipped top step and pulled his shirt off, facing the dark ocean as the cool wind kissed his skin, at last allowing his nagging thoughts to run their course. He reached for the ashtray he kept on the porch for nights like these.

First, the shop. He felt ashamed for snapping at everyone like that. They didn’t deserve it and Trucker was right to send him home. He didn’t know why he’d gotten so defensive… well, actually he did. Priestly was afraid they’d find out he liked boys. He was afraid they’d have the same reaction his father had.

It was Priestly’s senior year of high school when his father had found out. His father had gone out to the bar and Priestly had snuck the boy he was secretly seeing over. Jason. Captain of the basketball team, with stark white teeth and shaggy brown hair. His father had come home earlier than expected, bursting drunkenly into Priestly’s bedroom to find him smoking a bong naked with Jason, who managed to escape through the window while Priestly’s father beat the shit out of him, screaming over and over that he would not have a faggot for a son while Priestly sobbed. After that, Priestly was shipped off the military school, returning only when his father died of liver failure and he was legally Sammy’s guardian at the age of nineteen. The last words he spoke to him were at the airport, and Priestly would never forget them;

“I wish you weren’t my father.”

“I wish I didn’t have a faggot for a son.”

Words which struck Priestly to this day. Words that ran through his mind whenever he found himself checking out another man. He hadn’t dated another man since Jason, because of these words. He hated his father for it. His father was the reason he went by his last name; because he hated the way he had hissed Boaz from his drunken lips.

Priestly took another swig of Jack as his thoughts turned to Castiel. Strangely enough, Priestly hadn’t heard his father’s words when he saw Castiel. It was as if they had been erased from existence, melted before those sapphire eyes…

He had never been so attracted to someone in his life. Not only was he incredibly handsome, but for once, Priestly was able to admire a man without hearing his father’s nagging words in his ear. And boy—was he admiring him. Priestly wanted nothing more than to run his fingers through Castiel’s bedhead, planting a hungry kiss on his neck while his scruff scraped against Castiel’s smooth jaw… and Castiel would pull Priestly’s hips against his, erections straining and rubbing against each other as Castiel moaned into his ear…

Priestly downed a few more swallows of Jack as his dick twitched in his jeans. His head was just starting to feel cloudy when he felt his phone vibrate and saw a text from Jen:

‘hey sorry if i offended you tonight. it wasnt my intention and you know I love you :)’

He felt the guilt creep into his chest as he replied;

‘its okay. love you too ill seeya tomorrow.’

A proper apology was definitely in order in the morning.

Priestly finished his cigarette and immediately lit another. He sat on the porch, swigging from the bottle and blowing rings into the sea-chilled air as the waves crashed peacefully and the stars winked. The stars were Priestly’s favorite part of living on the beach; you could always see them, glowing magnificently in the night sky.

Eventually Priestly decided it was time for bed, standing up and realizing he was much drunker than he thought, wobbling his way inside and down the hallway to his bed, somehow managing to strip off his jeans and fall flat on top of the covers, drifting off to the thought of Castiel beside him.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Castiel didn’t leave his apartment for the rest of the night. Instead, he changed into his comfiest clothes and spent the evening re-watching some of his favorite movies half-heartedly while his thoughts occasionally strayed to the fry cook from Beach City Grill. He was halfway through Edward Scissorhands, curled into a ball on his new IKEA couch in boxers and a V-neck, when he remembered his sandwich still untouched in the kitchen.

He paused the movie and threw the blanket off himself, getting up swiftly and shuffling to the kitchen through a teetering pile of boxes. He knew he should be unpacking right now; his apartment was starting to smell like old cardboard and the clutter was definitely not helping him stay calm.

The linoleum floor creaked as he approached the table, reaching for the cold sub and turning it over to see a Sharpie ‘MM’ for meatball mozzarella. Castiel unwrapped it and stuck it on a plate, zapping it in the microwave while trying not to think about who made the sandwich. Trying not to think of the bold, emerald-eyed punk with the sharp features… or the outline of well-formed muscles visible through his shirt…

Castiel was brought back into focus as the microwaved beeped. He grabbed the plate, shutting the door with his elbow and shuffling back through the canyon of boxes to the couch, stopping at the sight of the still new bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter he’d bought a few days ago. He hesitated, then sighed as he grabbed the bottle by the neck and dragged it back to the living room.

Castiel ate the sub as he watched the movie, occasionally taking a swallow or two from the bottle. Apart from being a little soggy, the sandwich was very good. He’d have to go back and get a fresh one.

The thought made the meatballs in his stomach squirm.

He couldn’t go back there. One look at that fry cook and he’d been rendered catatonic on the floor of his shower for an hour. He’d probably puke his guts out all over that cute computer girl if he even walked through the door.

Who even has a panic attack over one glance from a total stranger? That fry cook could only mean one thing: drama. Castiel had had far too much of that with Balthazar, the last thing he needed was another toxic relationship.

Relationship? Is that where his thoughts were going? 

Castiel shook his head and took another swallow of Jack. He was overthinking, getting way ahead of himself. A relationship would require them to go on a date first…. and Castiel would have to ask him out… and he would have to learn his name… and he’d have to be at least a little interested in Castiel.

He had stared back when Castiel had frozen in front of him, but that could have been nothing more than alarm at the strange, nervous, inappropriately-dressed customer who was gawking at him like he’d never seen a mohawk before.

Castiel regretted staring at him like that.

*swig*

As much as Castiel knew he should stay away – for his own mental health and general well-being, and because the fry cook might put out a restraining order on him if he set another foot inside the shop, and because the last thing he wanted was to blow chunks on anyone…

*swig*

Even with all these reasons, Castiel knew he had to go back to Beach City Grill. He wanted to see him again, even if it meant a glance from the street or watching him silently from a booth. It’s not like a relationship would happen anyway, right? There’s no way he’d be interested in plain, boring, shaky little Castiel.

He finished the last bite of his sandwich and washed it down with a few swallows of Jack as the credits of Edward Scissorhands rolled. He didn’t even remember watching it. Castiel stood up to wash his plate in the kitchen sink and realized he was much drunker than intended, steadying himself for a moment against the back of the couch. He wobbled into the kitchen precariously and went to turn on the sink, knocking over the bottle of soap and realizing it was probably better if he left the dishes until tomorrow. He decided he didn’t want to stay up and think anymore, so he wobbled to the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

Castiel had always been extremely obsessive when it came to brushing his teeth. He brushed them every morning and night, as well as every time he ate and sometimes at random. His therapist had suggested it was a controlling type of habit, one that had been formed when he started worrying while brushing his teeth, and had developed into brushing his teeth whenever he felt especially worrisome or powerless. As a result, his teeth were very white, and he went through a tube of toothpaste about every two weeks. 

It took a few tries to get the toothpaste on the brush. Castiel ran his toothbrush under the tap and stared at his slightly fuzzy reflection as he brushed vigorously. His eyes and cheeks looked a bit sunken, and there were creases in his forehead that were starting to make themselves at home. His five o’clock shadow had come and gone, now a light scruff. The fry cook would never be interested in a face like this.  
Castiel brushed until his gums bled.

…

'It was the heeeeat of the moment-'

Priestly slammed his hand down on his alarm clock and groaned. He had a throbbing headache, a sandpaper mouth, and an urgent need to pee, along with a simultaneous and uncomfortable case of morning wood. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes without much avail and cursing the unwelcome light that filtered through his black curtains. Priestly scooted off the bed and stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom, turning the light on low. He flushed and reached into the shower, fumbling for the knobs for a moment before twisting the hot water as far as it would go. The water screeched as it warmed up the old pipes.

Priestly stripped off his boxers, dick springing to attention. He stepped inside and pulled the vinyl curtain closed, allowing the warm water to wash over his face and down his body, taking in a few deep breaths and rubbing at his eyes some more. He remembered the events of last night in the shop and sighed. He’d rehearse his apology in the car.

Priestly squeezed a quarter-sized amount of pomegranate body wash into his hand, lathered up and running it across his body; over his planed pecs that melted into his smooth abs and gliding over his V lines, down towards his dick…

Fuck, he was hard. Usually morning wood went away quickly. Priestly was running at full capacity. He ran a glazed hand down his long shaft, almost unable to fit his hand all the way around it. He felt the raised ridge of his head and rubbed his thumb across it gingerly, the sensation making him close his eyes as he stroked. 

His thoughts leapt to Castiel as he worked his dick, imagination replacing his hand with Castiel’s soft lips, breaking apart to take Priestly’s dick in his throat. Castiel moaned hungrily as Priestly’s dick met the wet scrape of his tongue, pausing momentarily to swirl around his rock hard head, oozing precum into Castiel’s mouth. He flicked his eyes up to meet Priestly’s, a wicked glare coloring his sapphire eyes. Priestly growled in anticipation, twisting his fingers into Castiel’s dark hair and hissing his name. Castiel gave a tiny, wicked smirk before plunging Priestly’s dick into his throat, lips meeting his pelvis as Priestly gasped and leaned against the wall for support. Castiel worked him like a porn star, sliding his tender lips over Priestly’s solid erection. He massaged Priestly’s balls carefully with one hand while jacking his shaft with the other, devouring Priestly with his hot, wet breath. Priestly moaned, unable to control the sounds that came out of him. Castiel could feel Priestly’s balls swelling in buildup, his entire body screaming underneath Castiel’s angelic touch. He sped up as he worked his dick quicker and quicker into his hungry mouth. They both could feel him coming, Priestly digging one hand into Castiel’s shoulder and the other into his unruly hair, panting uncontrollably as Castiel growled, coaxing his balls into cooperation. He arched his back and blew – crying out as his knees buckled and Castiel steadied him as he swallowed his hot load, taking every last drop and sucking Priestly dry as he stared into his eyes and winked.

Priestly opened his eyes, sitting on the shower floor as the water continued to pour, his dick soft as he struggled to reconcile his racing heart and mind.

…

Ten minutes later, Priestly rode to Beach City Grill in the Impala, wearing his black skinny jeans and an X-Men T-shirt, windows rolled down as the ocean breeze blew over his face, hair done up half-heartedly with a smudge of eyeliner framing his eyes underneath his sunglasses. Janis Joplin played on low while he tapped his chipped black fingernails on the leather steering wheel, the other arm leaning on the sill with a smoldering cigarette in between his fingers. He really did need to quit. He wondered briefly what Castiel thought of smoking.

He probably didn’t like it. He probably thought smoking was a disgusting habit. Priestly bet he would crinkle his nose and glare at Priestly for smoking. As if he didn’t already have enough to disapprove of.

He took a long drag and blew the sour smoke through his nostrils. He really didn’t need the self-loathing this early.

Priestly’s thoughts turned to his apology. What was he going to say? ‘Hey guys, sorry I yelled. I’m totally gay and I was eye fucking the absolute shit out of Castiel yesterday. I never told you guys because my father beat me to a pulp when he found out.’

Priestly took another drag. 

There was not going to be an easy way to say this, but Priestly hoped it sounded nothing like that. His stomach squirmed. Would he even tell them? Or would he just apologize for bitching and leave it at that? 

Priestly pulled into the parking lot, cursing as the sun glinted off a nearby car and into his eyes. He took a last goodbye drag before stomping his cigarette out underfoot, boots clicking towards the front door. 

He took a deep breath and opened the door with a familiar clang. There were no customers yet, Piper, Jen, Tish, and Trucker were all deep in conversation, leaning against and sitting on the countertops. They all turned to look as Priestly entered.

There was a beat of silence before Piper spoke.

“Morning, Priestly.” Her voice sounded strained. Jen, Tish, and Trucker stared, waiting.

Priestly took off his sunglasses and Tish gasped.

“Holy shit, dude. You look like you were hit by a truck.”

“Yeah, I feel like it. Bad hangover.”

“Let me get you some coffee, I just made a pot.” Piper moved towards the coffee machine, reaching for Priestly’s favorite mug (a KISS mug from Las Vegas) and filling it.

“Thanks, Pipe.” He took it, setting it down on the countertop a little forcefully and clapping his hands together.

“Alright, here’s the thing,” he started, exhaling slowly. His stomach doing backflips.

“I shouldn’t have snapped at you guys like that. It was a dick move and I know you were just joking around, and I’m sorry. It’s just—“

Priestly shifted his weight nervously. Piper leaned on the counter arms crossed, Tish stared attentively with her chin in her hand, Jen waited expectantly from her stool and Trucker leaned against the register, waiting patiently with his arms folded and his eyes soft. There wasn't a glimmer of judgment in any of their eyes. Priestly was scared for the moment their kind and familiar eyes turned to scorn.

“There was some truth in your words.” Everyone perked up noticeably, eyes still void of judgment.

“I’m gay.” Priestly said quickly, tensed. Piper and Trucker smiled. Jen gasped. Tish fist-pumped. 

“I called it! I so called it! You owe me twenty bucks, Jen. Pay up.”

“I never agreed to your bet, Tish. I thought it was shallow.”

“Oh, bull shit! You-“ Everyone shushed her, eyes still on Priestly. He continued on, unphased.

‘I’ve known since I was fourteen. I’ve only told one other person in my life and they didn’t take it too kindly.” The shop was silent as he turned and lifted the back of his shirt, revealing the long scar that went from his right shoulder blade to the middle of his back where his father had sliced him with a beer bottle. Piper and Jen’s hands flew their mouths, while Tish’s covered her heart. Trucker’s eyes looked heavy. Priestly pulled his shirt back down and met their eyes. Still no judgment.

“And yes… I was totally eye-fucking Castiel, alright? Goddammit.” The tension broke and everyone laughed.

“He was super cute.” Jen said again.

“Cute? He was hot! I might try to steal him for myself.” Tish winked. Piper nodded. Trucker remained quiet, eyes locked on Priestly, an unreadable expression on his face.

“We still love you, Priestly.” Piper smiled.

“Yeah, it’s not like you’ve changed at all.” Said Jen.

“You’re still a pain in the ass.” Tish flashed a shit-eating grin. Trucker leaned out of his place against the register and walked over to Priestly. He grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his surprised eyes for a moment before pulling him into a hug.

“I’m proud of you, son.” He said simply, clearly into Priestly’s ear. Priestly let out a small noise of defeat, shoulders collapsing as he leaned into Trucker’s hug and squeezed him back, tears stinging his eyes. It was then he realized – this was his real family. Trucker was his father, not the drunken asshole that had beat the shit out of him for being himself. Piper, Tish, and Jen were his sisters, Sammy his little brother, and Beach City Grill was his home. He may not have much, but he had his family, and he had his home. The tears flowed freely as he clung to Trucker, ten years of bitterness finally breaking the surface. After a long moment the hug broke, and Priestly glanced up through blurry eyes to see he wasn’t the only one crying. Jen was full-on sobbing, Piper sniffed and wiped her eyes, and Tish tried to hide the fact that her eyes were welling over. Trucker smiled, and Priestly could see his soul pouring out of his wet, crinkly eyes.  
He breathed deeply, feeling the burden lift off his shoulders as they relaxed for what felt like the first time in ten years.

“Okay! No chick flick moments!” Priestly laughed as he wiped his eyes and reached for his coffee, swallowing a few scalding yet cleansing gulps. 

“What music are we playing today?” he walked around the counter and placed his bag underneath, pulling his apron out and over his head. 

“Ricky Nelson? Moody Blues? Something mellow, I still have a massive migraine.” 

And with that, the topic was closed. Everyone bustled about, making sure everything was ready for the day as Priestly went over to the iPod hooked up to overhead speakers and put on his classic rock playlist. Creedence Clearwater Revival started to play as Priestly readied the grill, feeling his stomach jump to his throat at the sound of the door bell.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

It was Zo.

Priestly needed to calm down. Was he going to jump out of his skin every time he heard the bell? Chances were he was never going to see Castiel again. He’d scared him off.

“Hey, Zo.” Said Jen.

“Good morning.” She replied with a kind smile. She wore a red sundress and her wily hair fell over her shoulders. Trucker came over and kissed her on the cheek. They’d been dating for a few weeks now. Priestly had never seen the two of them happier.

“Priestly has news.” Trucker said, placing an arm around her waist.

“Oh?” she raised an eyebrow.

“He’s in luuuuurrvvee.” Piper cooed.

“With a dude!” Tish chimed. 

“I’m not in love with him for Chrissakes. I took one look at him and he ran out of here as fast as he could.”

Zo approached Priestly, taking his face in her hands and studying him. After a moment, she broke into a smile.

“I can see it. I’ve never seen you in love, Priestly. It looks good on you.” Priestly blushed and busied himself with the stove. She turned his chin towards her and pulled him in for a hug, hand resting lightly over the scar underneath his shirt.

“Don’t be afraid.” Priestly squeezed her back. Zo was like the mother he’d never known. His mother had died when he was very young, in a house fire. It was what drove his father to alcoholism in the first place. He’s always pictured his mother being very kind and loving, one who embraced his sexuality as a part of him.

“Thanks, Zo.” He supposed she fit the agenda.

…

Castiel took a deep breath as he checked his watch outside the door of Beach City Grill. 12:34. He’d bargained with himself for three hours, saying to himself that if he came to the shop and bought another sandwich, he could go home and hole himself up and watch movies for the rest of the night.

Fuck the sandwich, he really just wanted to see the fry cook. His heart was going to shoot out of his chest, screaming.

He grasped the handle and pulled the door open, hearing the bell chime over the sound of Creedence playing in the background. That made him feel a bit better. He liked Creedence. His eyes flicked immediately to the blue mohawk with his lean, angular back to Castiel.

“Hey, Castiel!” called Jen from behind the counter, an excited look in her eye. Mohawk whipped around, knocking over a pan of sizzling peppers from the stove and sending them scattering across the floor.

The entire shop was silent except for the sound of Run Through The Jungle playing in the background. Piper froze atop her stool, paintbrush in hand as she craned her neck around. Tish stopped midsentence and she flirted with a customer, twirling a single strand of hair as her eyes darted between them. Trucker and Zo halted their conversation from a booth as alight as they stared at the newcomer.

“Fuck.” He muttered, bending over the clean up the mess as he blushed a violent red. Castiel hoped he wasn’t too embarrassed.

“Do you need help, Priestly?” Jen asked.

Priestly…

Castiel repeated the name over and over inside his head. Finally a name to the face.

“No, help uh… Castiel here.” Castiel felt a surge of satisfaction as Priestly said his name. It was pathetic. Tish hurried around the counter to help Priestly clean up, placing a hand on his forearm for a brief second and giving him a look. Castiel felt a small pang of jealousy as Jen grabbed his attention.

“Sorry about that. We’re pretty hungover this morning.”

“That’s alright. So am I.”

“What can I get for you today, Castiel?”

“Another ten inch meatball mozzarella and some coffee, please.” He replied, eyes on the bobbing blue mohawk behind the counter as he handed his card to Jen.

“Okay that will just be…” she glanced over her shoulder, “a few minutes.” Castiel smiled and went to sit in the corner booth, where he could see the entire shop.

He supposed it made sense if Priestly and Tish had a thing. They were both very attractive people. He didn’t have to like it, though. He imagined pulling Priestly close by his belt loops and catching his lips with his own as he felt the hard contours of Priestly’s body on his…

Castiel looked up to find a wild-haired woman in a flowing red sundress staring at him, eyes locked in a kind, heartfelt smile. He returned the smile briefly before blushing and reaching into his bag for his book.

…

Tish dragged Priestly into the backroom to calm him down.

“Jesus dude, get it together!” she hissed.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Priestly shook his head, fiddling with his nose ring. Tish studied him for a brief moment.

“Really? Because you just knocked over a pan after hearing Castiel’s name, and you haven’t even spoken a word to him yet. Just take a deep breath and relax. Have you seen him? He totally freaked the fuck out yesterday, too. You guys are acting like a bunch of little girls. You’ve only known about his existence for a day—“ Priestly put a hand over her mouth.

‘God, Tish, just—you talk too much.” Priestly pushed past her with a deep inhale, and resumed cleaning up the mess off the floor, eyes avoiding Castiel’s direction altogether as he began making Castiel’s sandwich.

…

Castiel pulled out The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, his favorite book of all time. He’d read it many times before, and had no intention of reading it again when he pulled it from his box of books this morning, he’d just needed a prop to hide behind while he watched Priestly from afar. He hoped Priestly hadn’t dropped the pan because of him. The last thing Castiel wanted to do was distract him from his work.

Castiel shook his head. There’s no way Priestly was interested in him. It was vain to even think so.

He watched him over the top of his book, nerves entirely calm as his eyes followed Priestly’s tensed shoulders. He was wearing a light blue shirt today, complimenting the bright blue mohawk nicely. His helix piercings glinted in the sunlight through the windows. Castiel wished he would turn around so he could see his brilliant green eyes again.

Castiel glanced over to see the smiling woman still staring at him. He pursed a smile and returned his eyes to his book, eyes staring at a lone word on the page without taking it in.

“Hello, Castiel.” He jumped as the woman approached his table.

“My name is Zo. May I sit?” Castiel nodded quickly as he shut his book and set it aside. Zo smiled again. Castiel liked it. When she smiled, it lit up every feature of her face.

“How do you know my name?”

“I’d heard about you. I knew it was you when I saw you approach the door.”

She’d heard about him? From whom? What did they say? Priestly had probably told her about the clammy nervous wreck that had creeped him out yesterday. As if she could read his thoughts, Zo shook her head.

“No need to be so hard on yourself, Castiel.” He didn’t know what to say as she asked for his hands, pulling them out of his lap and placing them in her own. She studied his palms with speculation, tracing the lines and creases with her own soft, warm fingers. She continued on for almost a minute while Castiel sat in polite silence, before she closed his fist and patted it with a smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Castiel. I’m sure this won’t be the last time we speak.” She scooted out of the booth and returned to her booth with Trucker, tossing a final smile over her shoulder. 

Castiel was very confused.

…

Priestly avoided looking at Castiel the entire time he prepared his ten inch mozzarella meatball, and he hated himself for it. He’d probably knock over an entire pot of soup if he glanced in his direction again. He knew Tish, Piper, Jen, Zo, and Trucker were all watching, and he wished they weren’t. His hands shook as he scooped the meatballs onto the bread and placed the cheese on top, placing it in the toaster oven and staring at it as if he was cooking it with his eyes.

Priestly didn’t get it. He’d never been shy. Boys had never made him nervous, just the thought of anyone finding out he liked them. Neon mohawk, more artificial holes in his face than real ones, eyeliner… he’d never been one to rely on the opinions of others. Who the hell was Castiel to come in here and cripple him with his scared blue eyes? He thought about his moment in the shower this morning and blushed again. Priestly pulled out the sub as the oven beeped, placing it on a plate and spooning some coleslaw on the side. He filled a mug with coffee as Tish reached for the order over the counter, waiting. Priestly paused, took a deep breath, and winked at her, walking over to Castiel’s booth.

… 

‘shitshitshitshit…’ Castiel thought. Priestly was walking over to him, plate in hand, green eyes fixed on Castiel. Had he even done his hair today? Or shaved? Was his shirt covered in wrinkles? Did his breath smell? He was going to be sick…

“Order up.” Priestly said, his deep voice calm. He placed the plate and mug in front of Castiel. The entire shop echoed with the sound of ceramic on wood. Castiel couldn’t breath. His eyes, for Chrissakes. They weren’t fair.

“Can I get you anything else—Hey… Is that Dorian Gray?” Priestly pointed a chipped black fingernail at the worn paperback on the table. Castiel’s eyes followed his finger to the book and back to Priestly’s eyes.

“Yes… you know Oscar Wilde?” Castiel was caught completely by surprise. He was thankful he was sitting down as Priestly broke into a huge smile. 

“Know him? I love him. Second only to Vonnegut in my opinion. Dorian Gray is one of my all-time favorites. I mean, Wilde’s voice is genius. He managed to create this asshole antihero you’re somehow rooting for and hating all at once. And then there’s Lord Henry, who’s also an asshole, but he’s awesome and insightful and kind of a genius. I love it.” Priestly said all of this very fast. “Whatever you do, DO NOT watch the movie. Absolute shit and completely inaccurate.” He blushed. All Castiel wanted was a sandwich and here he was, getting an extremely non-articulate lecture from a fry cook. Strangely enough, Castiel was grinning, smile white and wide and his blue eyes lit up.

“Exactly! Wilde is a cathartic genius. And Henry is an absolute asshole. He’s comedic and a clear reflection of Wilde’s views, but I feel he says things purely for shock factor at times.”

“That’s why I like him.” Priestly grinned, tapping his mohawk, “He’s not afraid to say what he’s thinking.” It was then that Castiel noticed Priestly’s shirt.

“I like your shirt.” Castiel hoped he sounded calmer than he felt.

“You like X-Men?” Priestly cracked a wide grin as he sat down across from Castiel, clasping his hands together, “I love X-Men. I’ve been into comics since I was a kid.” Priestly knew he was talking way too much, but he didn’t care.

“Who’s your favorite?” Castiel asked, taking a sip of coffee.

“Wolverine’s pretty badass of course, but Mystique is awesome. She refuses to hide. What about you?”

“I thought you’d say that,” Castiel’s eyes scanned over Priestly as Priestly’s stomach did a backflip. He loved the way Castiel talked like he knew him. “I like Jean. She’s gifted with powers she almost can’t control, yet she pulls through and harnesses her energy. I admire that.” Castiel scooped a bite of coleslaw into his mouth, a tiny bit sticking to his lips. Priestly watched in agony as his tongue darted out of his mouth and licked the spot. Priestly’s mouth watered.  
Castiel blushed and looked down as Priestly realized he was full on staring at him, chin in hand as he leaned forward on the table. He shook his head and stood up.

“God, I’m sorry. You come in for a sandwich and I hound you about nerdy stuff. Can I get you anything else?”

“No it’s alright, I enjoyed it. I’m fine for now, thank you.” Castiel said with a smile, realizing that he didn’t feel at all nervous while they spoke. 

“Awesome, enjoy.” Priestly turned on his heel and walked towards the register. Tish and Jen glared at him from behind the counter, Jen shaking her head while Tish pointed at Castiel violently mouthing ‘ASK HIM OUT!!!’ Priestly froze and remembered Zo’s words in his head.

‘Don’t be afraid.’ 

He wheeled around and felt his stomach leap into his throat as he approached Castiel’s booth one again, boots clicking across the tile. ‘Say it now, chickenshit,’ he thought.

“Hey, uh… Cas?” Priestly immediately cringed. Cas? Bit early for nicknames. Castiel’s stomach lurched. He shouldn’t be so pleased by the nickname.

“Yes?”

“Do you… Do you wanna go out sometime?” Priestly but his lip and tasted blood as his hands fidgeted behind his back. Castiel’s mouth fell open, cheeks flushing a brilliant pink as he breathed a nervous laugh and ran his hand through his hair.

“You want to go out with… me?” Castiel’s blue eyes were huge. The corners of Priestly’s mouth twitched.

“Yeah, if you want… The boardwalk just opened for the summer. We could go down for the rides?”

Castiel was going to explode.

“Yeah… Yes. That sounds wonderful, really. I’d love to.” Priestly flashed his biggest grin yet, even letting out a small giggle before clearing his throat gruffly.

“Tomorrow at eight? I’ll pick you up.” Castiel nodded eagerly.

“Awesome. Seeya tomorrow night.” He clicked his heels and turned, a spring in his step as he passed Jen and Tish internally screaming behind the register, retreating to the backroom to hyperventilate.

Castiel couldn’t eat his sandwich now, he was way too excited. He motioned to Tish.  
“Can I get this to go, please?”

…

Priestly shoved open the backdoor, taking several deep breaths as he searched his pockets for a cigarette. He didn’t have one on him, he’d had to go back inside and get one from his bag—

Shit.

Oh, shit.

Priestly hadn’t gotten his number.

Priestly had asked out Castiel, only to fuck it up and forget his number. He wouldn’t be able to get Castiel’s address without it! Priestly threw open the door and bounded back inside, seeing Castiel’s booth was empty. His heart fell.

“Don’t worry, loverboy,” Tish placed a napkin in his hand, “He left this.”

Priestly looked down at the napkin and smiled. Written in neat handwriting was his number, underneath a single word:

Cas.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Cas was having another panic attack. He’d showered, brushed his teeth, shaved, dressed, undressed, showered again, dressed again, brushed his teeth again, and dressed a final time, while checking his face for any stray hairs he might have hastily looked over. He’d settled for a simple blue and black flannel shirt with khaki jeans. He’d attempted to do something with his hair and look presentable, he really did, but his hair was simply not in the mood to cooperate, now or ever. It stuck out and protruded at strange angles, giving him a permanent bedhead look. It was inevitable.

Cas had woken up at eight AM with the intention of sleeping in longer but finding himself unable to, dreams clouded by sharp green eyes before he’d even been able to rub the sleep from his own.

What in God’s name did he want with Cas? Was this just a big practical joke? Once the thought had crossed his mind, he hadn’t been able to shake it. Maybe the pretty waitress, Trish or whatever her name was, had dared Priestly to ask out the profusely-sweating wreck who obviously wasn’t coming in for the food. She’d probably paid him for a good laugh.

But maybe,

Just maybe,

Priestly was actually interested in Castiel. Maybe he was being genuine. Who knew? Maybe Priestly was just as nervous as he was. Maybe he had showered six times and changed his outfit seven and maybe he was standing in front of the mirror, just like Cas, staring into his own eyes and dreaming up paranoid scenarios. Cas doubted Priestly ever having a lack of self-confidence. He was Priestly.

Castiel shook his head. He was being ridiculous. Of course Priestly was interested; he had asked him out in the first place.

He smiled at the thought. His stomach did a little backflip of joy as he remembered Priestly’s careful green eyes.

He had asked Cas out.

Cas let out a grunt of frustration and stormed into the living room, cursing his thoughts. He flicked his iPod speakers on, then grabbed a pillow and flopped gracelessly onto the couch, curling into the smallest ball possible as Stevie Nicks warbled over the speakers.

He wondered for the millionth time what he’d be doing if he didn’t have anxiety. Sitting on the couch, calmly sipping tea with his pinkie out, scanning the Sunday paper? Please.

Maybe he’d still be in Seattle, perhaps another day at work, only to drive home and find Balthazar fucking a woman in their bed, her face buried in Cas’ pillow as she moaned, and Balthazar would throw his head back in pleasure as he’d thrust his hips inside of her.

It was an image Castiel would never be able to get out of his head.

The living room was almost completely void of boxes, Cas having unpacked the majority today out of needing a distraction.

He checked his phone. 7:58. Shit. _Shitshitshit._

Maybe he should text Priestly (he’d never be able to call him) and tell him he couldn’t make it. Death in the family… work-related injury… explosive diarrhea… anything to get out of this. He wasn’t going to make it through this without having a panic attack. One look into Priestly’s unfairly green eyes and he’d be reduced to a sweaty, catatonic ball of nerves at his feet. Priestly would laugh and leave to collect his bet. The end.

Fuck, he was going to sweat through his shirt. He’d better put on another quick coat of deodorant before—

_Tap tap tap._

Priestly’s knuckles were quick and firm on the door. Castiel’s mind went completely blank. He forgot how to breathe. He forgot how to move.

_Tap tap tap._

It came back to him in a rush as he leapt up and shut off the music, practically sprinting to the door like a confused deer in traffic. He took one final, non-calming breath, smoothed his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair, and opened the door.

Priestly was closer than he expected, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and a smirk coloring his face. They were only standing about a foot apart from each other, but neither moved. Priestly studied him for a moment, taking in the sight of Cas’ planed clavicles just beneath his shirt, meeting at the base of his neck and dipping into a slim line between his pecs.

He noticed Cas’ tensed shoulders and panicked eyes, replying only with a shit-eating grin. Cas saw an extra glint of light and noticed a silver tooth near the back of his mouth, only visible when he smiled wide. Cas wondered what would happen if Priestly tried to go through a metal detector.

“Were you listening to Stevie Nicks?” Cas’ shoulders relaxed.

“Yes, Heart actually. The best band she’s ever been a part of.” Priestly raised an eyebrow.

“Not a Fleetwood Mac fan?”

“Not really. Heart is definitely preferable.” Cas stepped into the hall, Priestly backing up a few feet. He closed the door behind him.

“Hi, by the way.” Cas added, hoping he wasn’t being rude. He took in Priestly’s outfit; a simple charcoal Henley pushed up to his hard forearms, red skinny jeans, and black Converse. A red mohawk topped his head, eyes void of eyeliner. His green eyes stood out in contrast.

Priestly chuckled. “Hey, Cas.” Once again, Cas felt butterflies at the mention of his nickname.

“Let’s go, I gotta beat your ass at skee ball.”

Cas felt all anxiety leave as they walked to the elevator, by the sound touch of Priestly’s warm hand on his lower back.

…

To Cas’ surprise, the drive to the boardwalk wasn’t awkward at all. Priestly opened Cas’ door and introduced him to Baby, the gorgeous black ’67 Impala he drove. Cas was practically drooling over the sleek black lines and the smoky purr of the engine as Priestly turned the ignition.

The ride was dominated by a discussion of music, continuing on Stevie Nicks and branching out to other artists and bands and their favorite albums from each. Priestly enjoyed the sight of Cas’ slender fingers rifling through his shoebox of tapes, occasionally holding one up with excited eyes. He found out Cas had excellent taste in music, sharing an affinity for rock and roll. Cas was more on the softer side (Velvet Underground, The Moody Blues, Bob Dylan), while Priestly was more on the metal side (Led Zeppelin, Judas Priest, Def Leppard), but they found common ground in classic rock and vowed to make each other mixtapes of their favorites.

They arrived at the boardwalk, feeling much more relaxed than when they’d left. The sun had just begun to set as they approached the gate, igniting the blue sky in brilliant orange flames and dipping the clouds in blood. Priestly stole a glance at Cas as he bought tickets, who was gawking at the sky with his mouth open.

“Ever seen a sunset before, Cas?”

“What? Oh.” Cas blushed, realizing what he must look like. Priestly saw pink color his cheeks and wondered how he was going to get through the night without ravishing Cas.

“I’m still not used to such beautiful sunsets. Generally, sunsets in Seattle are nothing but clouds.” Priestly smiled as he steered them inside.

“Where do you want to go first?” Priestly asked as they both took in the sight before them. Everywhere Cas looked, there was color and movement. Booths, games, rides, food, even a giant roller coaster and a towering Ferris wheel, lit up beautifully.

“I have a confession.” Cas mumbled sheepishly, turning to Priestly.

“What’s that?” He cocked an eyebrow in response.

“I’ve never been to one of these before.”

“A carnival? Really?” Cas shrugged. “What about an arcade? Theme park?” Cas shook his head.

“I spent what childhood I had reading books. I wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Well then, Castiel Novak, prepare for the time of your life.” Priestly puffed out his chest and gestured grandly, offering his arm to Cas. He took it with a smile.

They had fun wandering through the brightly lit boardwalk, playing darts and skee ball (Cas won two out of three, to Priestly’s surprise). Cas discovered Priestly was an excellent shot when he won his choice of a stuffed animal by shooting three targets in the bulls eye with ease. He asked which one Cas wanted and Cas beamed, pointing to a simple sock monkey.

“I knew you’d pick the boring sock monkey over the hot pink teddy bear.” Priestly teased.

“I’ve always wanted one. Thank you, Priestly, I love it.” His hand rested lightly on Priestly’s bicep, “I’ll sleep with it every night.” Cas smiled.

“It’ll keep all the monsters away.”

“And the scary, mohawked fry cooks?” Cas arched an eyebrow playfully as Priestly faked a scowl and leaned into Cas’ ear, resting a hand on his waist.

“It’s going to take a hell of a lot more to keep those away.” He whispered, breath hot on Cas’ jaw. Cas felt the back of his neck grow hot as Priestly steered them towards the popcorn stand.

“You know,” Cas started as Priestly bought a small bag for them to share, the smell of warm butter rising to their nostrils, “this reminds me of Jon and Janey’s first date, before he became Dr. Manhattan. Carnival, popcorn, stuffed animals… stay away from nuclear reactors, okay?” Priestly stopped, eyes wide.

“You know Watchmen? God Cas, do you have flaws?” Priestly tossed a kernel in the air and caught it with his tongue while Cas’ stomach squirmed. He could think of about twelve major flaws off the top of his head, starting with his anxiety, but he remained silent.

They ended up in front of the mechanical bull next, Cas taking a deep breath and handing Priestly the sock monkey. Priestly’s jaw dropped. He found himself breathless with laughter at the sight of Cas gripping the bull with all four limbs as a terrified look crossed his face. After a few moments, he sat up and carefully raised a shaky hand in the air, absolutely beaming as Priestly’s eyes locked on the sight of his sharp, lean hips gripping the bull and rocking tightly.

From there, they went to the photo booth, where it was Cas’ turn to gasp with laughter when he discovered Priestly’s ability to pull funny faces. Three of the five photos ended up as shots of Cas and Priestly fighting to contain their laughter for the camera. Priestly fell in love with the way Cas snorted when he laughed hard.

Priestly wanted to go on the Ferris wheel next, and Cas agreed, secretly terrified. Apart from the mechanical bull, his only experience with rides had been what he’d seen on The Sandlot, and the last thing he wanted to do was throw up on Priestly, which would cause this – all of this – sock monkeys, talking music, Priestly’s side smile that made his heart beat twice as fast and his warm hand on Cas’ back that made it return to normal, would all end. Cas realized he was looking for scenarios in which he would fuck up and Priestly would make it clear he never wanted to see Cas again. He tried to push them from his mind.  
Priestly noticed Cas’ sudden silence as they waited in line.

“You okay, Cas? You got kinda quiet on me.” His eyes were cautious as Cas bit the inside of his cheek and stared fixedly on the on the spinning Ferris wheel with his arms crossed.

“Yes, sorry. It’s just—“ he paused, “I’ve never been on a ride before, and I’m desperately hoping it doesn’t turn out like The Sandlot.”

Priestly surprised Cas by throwing back his head and laughing, a great belly laugh that shook his shoulders. It made Cas feel better instantly.

‘Hey, if you handle this like you handled the bull, you’re golden. And if you end up blowing chunks on me, I promise I’ll still like you, Cas. But you’ll owe me a new shirt.” He flashed a grin and placed his hand on Cas’ back. Cas was starting to believe this gesture had the power to calm him down in a hurricane. His shoulders relaxed and he smiled.

They were the last to board the Ferris wheel, Priestly guiding Cas by the hand to their car, Cas on the right and Priestly on the left. Priestly glanced at Cas out of the corner of his eye and grinning as his knee bounced and he drummed his fingers on the seat. Priestly steadied his fingers with his own.

“Why so nervous, Cas?” Cas felt even more nervous at the question.

“There’s something you should know about me,” he started, meeting Priestly’s eyes warily. He took a deep breath.

“I have anxiety. As in, legitimate clinical anxiety. It started about a year ago in the midst of a very toxic relationship, and eventually morphed into panic attacks and paranoia. The other day for example, when I walked into Beach City Grill and saw you, I uh… I had a full-blown panic attack in my apartment for an hour.” Cas spoke the last part in a rush, pink creeping onto his cheeks again. Priestly raised his eyebrows.

“What brought it on?” Cas blushed even harder.

“Your eyes.” He said sheepishly “It was your eyes, okay? Goddammit. Your eyes gave me a panic attack.”

Priestly surprised Cas by laughing another head-tilting belly laugh.

“What in the world is so funny?”

“Oh Cas, Trucker sent me home that day because I kept screwing up orders and because I snapped at everyone for teasing me about you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Castiel was dumbfounded. “You what?”

“I’m crazy about you, Cas. Priestly’s emerald eyed darted between Cas’ sapphires, glowing in the Ferris wheel’s lights. Cas blushed harder than ever, the tender pink flooding his face and neck as he breathed a nervous laugh.

“No comment.” He mumbled. Priestly looked confused.

“What?”

“No comment… I couldn’t think of what else to say.”

The Ferris wheel started and Cas gasped and cursed, stomach flying into his throat at the lurch. Priestly laughed again at his surprised face, Cas now panicking.

“God, you probably think I’m such a jackass,” he heard himself say, words spilling out “Look at poor, defenseless, sweaty Castiel, saying stupid things, unable to go outside without jumping at every ant on the street. Unable to go on a date without having a panic attack. That was third date information at least, and now that I’ve dropped that on you, you’ll never want to take me out again, so you’ll just take me home and go collect your bet from the waitre-“

Priestly put a warm finger to Castiel’s cool lips, silencing the monologue.

“Are you finished?” He whispered, eyes smoldering in the tilting lights of the Ferris wheel. His index finger slid underneath his chin, thumb running gently across his bottom lip and over his prickly cheek, chipped black fingernails gently curving around the apex of Cas’ jaw. He leaned in slowly, Cas’ heart beating a panicked tattoo as his breath caught in his throat. Priestly leaned in closer and closer, eyes alight as Cas felt warm breath spread over his mouth—

He turned his head, facing the ocean again as his heart continued rapidly and he shifted uncomfortably on the metal bench.

“I’m sorry… Priestly, it’s just-“

“No, it’s okay. That was stupid.“ He looked disappointed, pulled his hands back into his lap and followed Cas’ eyes out to the sea.

The silence was thick for a few moments, penetrated only by the creak of the Ferris wheel and the hollow tin of carnival music in the distance. It made Cas want to jump off the Ferris wheel and gravely injure himself. How many times had he envisioned kissing Priestly? And he backs down the moment Priestly tries to make that fantasy a reality?

“Priestly, I… I want to, but—“ Cas struggled to push the words past his rapid heartbeat.

“Don’t worry about it.” He turned his head toward Cas, and Cas could tell he’d hurt his feelings. He tried hard to conceal it, but the rejection was there, a dim flicker of light in his green eyes. If Castiel’s heart wasn’t beating so hard, he’d kiss him. And boy, did he want to. He wanted nothing more than to take his bottom lip between his teeth and moan into his mouth.

With every beat, his heart reminded him that he’s never be brave enough to so much as peck him on the cheek.

…

The ride back in the Impala was awkward. Cas and Priestly almost didn’t talk at all, Priestly drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Judas Priest while Cas tried to think of something to say. The smoke-scented cabin was tense, and Cas knew it was his fault.

Priestly opened Cas’ door and walked close by his side, but refrained from touching him. The spot on Cas’ back itched where Priestly had rested his hand earlier that night, and Cas wished he would touch him there once more as Priestly opened the door to the building.

It took all of Cas’ strength not to ravish Priestly in the elevator, the tension growing with each passing _tink_ as three floors rushed by.

“I had a wonderful time Priestly, thank you.” Cas said in front of his door. Priestly looked up and smiled.

“I did too, Cas. Thanks for comin’. Let’s do it again, soon?” His eyes were cautious again.

“Please.” Cas eyes turned up in sincerity and he reached out, wrapping his arms around Priestly and resting his chin on his shoulder. He was warm underneath his shirt. Cas felt two strong arms wrap gently around his waist and squeeze gently. They pulled apart and Priestly planted a kiss on Cas’ forehead before grinning once more.

“Keep that sock monkey close, ya hear?”

“Yessir.” He replied, turning to unlock his door as Priestly walked back to the elevator. He shut the door behind him and slid to the ground, banging his head against the back of the door a few times with a sigh. He looked at the sock monkey in his hands and smiled. It was a fantastic date, apart from Cas’ rejecting the kiss. And because of what, a mild panic attack? He had those all the time; he should be used to them by now. Clearly Priestly didn’t care about them if he’d tried to kiss him in the middle of one, right? So why should he?

Cas wondered if the kiss would’ve calmed him down or made it worse. He held the sock monkey at arms’ length and stared into its empty plastic eyes.

“I should have let him kiss me, huh?” No response. Cas didn’t know what he was expecting. He made the monkey’s head nod a few times and sighed. Cas pulled himself up nimbly and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth, trying not to look in the mirror or at the sock monkey patronizing him from its perch on the toilet.

 _“It was only a kiss. You both wanted to. And now you’ve hurt his feelings and he probably doesn’t want to see you ever again.”_ It seemed to say, eyes cold and judgmental. Cas shook his head and paused to take out his contacts so he wouldn’t have to look at it. Listening to a goddamn sock monkey. Maybe it was better that Priestly never saw him again. Clearly, Cas was insane.

The thought hurt. Priestly had asked hopefully if he could see Cas again soon. He’d meant that, right?

Overthinking. Again.

Overthinking overthinking overthinking.

Cas rinsed and reached for his glasses on the shelf, flicking off the bathroom light and shuffling to the kitchen to get a sleeping pill in the darkness. He squinted at the bottle in the dim light through the kitchen window, tipping it upside down into his palm and shaking out a single pill. And another. He stopped at three, paused, and put one back. Two was probably good.

He fumbled back through the dark apartment to his bedroom, where he peeled off his jeans and unbuttoned his shirt, leaving them both on the floor and flopping on top of the covers in his boxer briefs. He grabbed his pillow and turned it vertically, pretending it was Priestly’s well-built torso as he snuggled closer and pressed his face into the fabric. It was cold, not warm like Priestly.

Cas’ eyes flicked open as he remembered how good Priestly looked tonight. He imagined Priestly tugging his Henley over his head and running his hands over the smooth contours of his pecs…

His dick twitched in his boxer briefs. Cas slid a hand below his waistband and squeezed, eyes closing in satisfaction. His dick twitched again when he imagined Priestly’s hand dipping below the waistband. Was it okay to touch yourself, thinking about someone you’d only been on one date with? Cas didn’t care.

He rolled onto his back and peeled his underwear off, his dick flicking out of the waistband and smacking against his stomach. Cas imagined Priestly kneeling over him, stroking his dick as he watched Cas do the same, green eyes filled with hunger. Cas stroked his fist around his cock, a sigh escaping his lips. Priestly moaned, keeping a hand on his dick and running the other up Cas’ lean body, over his hard stomach and across the ridge of his chest, back down to his cock as Cas moaned in frustration. Priestly grabbed him by the hips and swung his legs around his waist, dicks straining against each other as Priestly wrapped hand around them and worked them slowly. Cas turned his head and bit his pillow, moaning loudly as he worked his hips against Priestly’s.

“Fuck me, Priestly.” Cas was somewhere between a sigh and a whisper. A wicked grin flashed across his face for a moment before he grabbed Cas by the thighs and placed his calves on his shoulders, exposing his pink asshole.

“Goddammit, Cas.” His bulging head teased the edge of Cas’ hole. Cas grabbed the sheets in his fists, white-knuckled. Priestly pushed past his head past the supple surface as Cas cried out. Before Cas knew it, Priestly was entirely inside him, and he held it for a few seconds before pulling out and plunging in again. They worked slowly, Priestly’s dick entering Cas at the same time he’d reach the bottom of his shaft. It wasn’t long before Cas arched his back and blew his hot load all over his stomach, cooling fast against his skin in the night.

Cas opened his eyes, disappointed to find he was alone with a thin layer of swear coating his skin as he struggled to catch his breath. He pulled his fingers out of his asshole and went to the bathroom to clean up, bringing the sock monkey back to bed with him before drifting off to the thought of Priestly’s steady breathing beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Links to Castiel's and Priestly's mixtapes on my Tumblr!
> 
> \- http://castiel-priestly.tumblr.com/post/51758723635/no-comment-soundtrack


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Priestly pulled open the door of Beach City Grill and was instantly met by an onslaught of questions.

“Did you kiss him?”

“How was the date?”

“Did you make out?”

“Are you going to see him again?”

“Did you get it in? Or… get it… put in?”

“Alright, alright, calm down.” Priestly pulled off his sunglasses and struggled to repress a smirk. Jen, Tish, Piper, and Trucker were in the same positions as yesterday, all eyes fixated on Priestly.

“We hung out at the boardwalk, played some games, rode the rides, and I took him home. That’s it. We had fun.” Priestly crossed his arms and sniffed.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Tish started, “you’re wearing your kilt, which means you’re in a good mood, which means you got laid. Now tell us how you fucked him in the backseat of the Impala.” Piper hit her on the arm.

“You see Platicia,” she scowled at the mention of her real name, “Some people wait until they’ve gone on a few dates first, actually get to know the person…”

“Shut up. You didn’t even kiss him?”

Priestly shrugged. “Nope.” Tish rolled her eyes.

“Well…” her full attention was back immediately, “I tried… and he pulled away.”

“Ouch.” Piper looked sympathetic.

“I’m sure it was just first date nerves.” Jen shrugged, “Are you gonna see him again?” Priestly grinned as he put on his apron and fired up the grill.

“Yeah… tonight actually. We’re going to The Roadhouse.” Tish smirked.

“You better get him drunk and fuck his brains out.” She tied up her hair as she walked off into the backroom.

“Don’t rush the sex, man,” Trucker whispered from behind his hand, “It’ll be great when it happens, but you don’t want to jump in his pants immediately. You also don’t want to wait too long and be a monk about it. Time it just right, and he’ll know you value him for more than sex.”

“That sounds like an excuse for not having the balls to make a move,” Tish called as she reentered the room, “when was the last time you got it in, Trucker?”

“Sooner than you might think.” Came a quiet voice accompanied by the sound of the doorbell. Zo beamed as she crossed to Trucker’s side. Piper and Priestly burst out laughing. Jen snorted and covered her mouth. Trucker smiled in victory. Tish flushed and froze, mumbling something incoherent as she retreated to the backroom once again.

…

Since ten AM when Cas woke up, his only thought had been _‘I should have kissed him I should have kissed him’_ over and over. Throughout more unpacking, throughout watching some random crappy scary movie on Netflix in an attempt at distraction, throughout numerous bouts of teeth brushing; he found it impossible to get the thought Priestly’s warm breath on his lips out of his mind. He’d considered giving himself a lobotomy like the killer had done to the screaming blonde girl in the movie to quiet his mind down, and even searched around his house for a few minutes what could possibly be sharp enough for such a task before realizing what he was doing and went to the bedroom to get ready.

He badly needed to do a few loads of laundry, and came to find his best option was a plain red T-shirt, a hoodie, and jeans. He smoothed out the wrinkles as best he could, pulled it over his messy head of hair, brushed his teeth a final time, and left for the grill, deciding against the hoodie at the last minute. He read the text from Priestly for the hundredth time in the elevator.

‘meet me at the grill tonight at eight. i want to take you somewhere :)’

They’d texted back and forth for a few minutes after that, Cas trying to worm the information as to where they were going out of him to no avail. The not knowing made him uncomfortable. At least with knowing, he’d be able to direct his worrying somewhere. This just made him worry about everything.

Beach City Grill was only a few blocks south of his apartment, so Cas decided to walk. It wasn’t like he had much choice; it was that or the old bike he’d brought out with him. He’d been forced to sell his car when he moved to help cover the cost of the U-Haul.

He was met with hot, Summer evening air as he pushed open the door, thick and drowsy on his face and arms. The clean, salty scent of the ocean hung heavy in the warm night. Cas took a deep breath through his nostrils and out through his mouth, tasting it at the back of his throat. He loved living near the ocean.

The thought of seeing Priestly again evaporated his calm instantly. Especially now, after his little fantasy last night…

Cas blushed. He hoped dearly he wouldn’t think about that around Priestly. This boy was going to be the death of him. He stopped and took a few more cleansing breaths. It was times like this when Cas wish he smoked. Any habit to calm him down right now would be much appreciated.

…

The door to Beach City Grill sounded with a familiar clang as Cas entered the shop. He had a happy feeling he was going to get used to that sound.

“Hey, Castiel!” Jen called as she typed, flashing him a grin.

“Good evening, Jen.” Cas smiled back. Priestly turned around and Cas’ stomach fluttered as Priestly did a double take. It made him self-conscious.

“Hey Cas, one sec. We just gotta close shop and we’ll be good to go.”

“Alright.” Cas sat down on one of the squishy vinyl stools at the counter.

“You’re in for a treat tonight, Cas. The Roa—“

“Hey hey, sush! Cas doesn’t know where we’re going.” Priestly winked at Cas, who didn’t bother saying he hated surprises.

“Oh, sorry. We’ll swap stories later then.” She replied and refocused on the computer. Priestly chuckled as he wiped down the grill.

“What are you typing?” Cas asked, noticing how furiously Jen’s fingers were moving, a delicate smirk on her face.  Jen went a little pink in the cheeks.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just an internet friend—“

“Boyfriend!” Priestly called over his shoulder.

“We just talk sometimes—“

“All the time!” Jen turned and smacked his arm. Cas smiled. It was like watching a brother and sister. He wondered if Priestly had any siblings

 “Alright Cas, we are ready to rock.” Priestly said, wiping his hands and walking around the counter to get his bag.

“Nice kilt.” Cas choked in surprise. Priestly grinned and curtsied theatrically. Somehow, he pulled it off. Cas admired his calves.

“You like? Seventy five bucks at the Goodwill down the street. Worth every penny.”

“Strangely… yes. It fits you.” Cas stood and Priestly took in his outfit. The red T-shirt made him realize just how fit Cas was… he wasn’t by any means buff, but he had long, lean muscles underneath that left Priestly drooling. His jeans hugged his thighs, squeezing his butt and showing off a faint bulge. Priestly had to look away. Boners were a lot harder to hide in a kilt.

“You all good to lock up, Jen?”

“Yeah, I won’t be much longer. You guys go have fun.” Jen waved. Priestly and Cas bid her goodnight  and left, Priestly holding the door open for Cas. He led them around the corner and away from the parking lot behind the shop.

“No car?” Cas stopped. Priestly placed his hand on Cas’ lower back and steered him along. He could feel Cas’ muscles below his shirt and licked his lips.

“No car. I don’t think we’ll be able to walk after tonight, let alone drive.” Priestly pulled the side smile that Cas loved. He needed to think of a name for that.

They exchanged polite small talk about their days, Cas having not much to report besides unpacking and movies. Priestly told him about how Priestly had spit soda out of his nose today when she almost fell of her painting stool.

“You seem very happy there. Like a family. It’s tangible when I walk into the shop.” They walked in silence for a few moments while Priestly smiled, making a mental note to tell everyone that later.

“Yeah, I love ‘em all to death. Even Tish, although she’s a pain in the ass sometimes. My biological family’s kind of in tatters – well, ‘cept for Sammy, but he’s at college – so I found my own. Family don’t end with blood.”

“Who’s Sammy?” Cas loved the way Priestly’s eyes lit up at the mention of his name.

“My little brother. I love the kid to bits – well, he’s not really a kid anymore. He goes to Stanford, real smart. And he’s about the size of a moose.” Priestly chuckled and Cas smiled.

“I pretty much raised him after our dad died” Cas noticed how his jaw clenched at the mention of his father, “and our mom died when we were young. Sammy never knew her and I hardly did at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think I turned out pretty good” Priestly flashed a cheesy grin to lighten the mood, “And Sammy, that kid’s gonna do big things. Smartest person I know.”

“I’d love to meet him.” Cas hoped he wasn’t being too bold.

“Yeah, you two geniuses would probably get along great.”

“I don’t know about that—“

“Cas,” Priestly stopped and put a hand on Cas’ arm, “I gotta say this before I go insane.” Cas was instantly worried.

“You look…” Priestly paused to lick his lips and find a way to phrase his thoughts, “so… hot tonight.” he finished lamely. Cas blushed so hard he felt it on the back of his neck. He looked down and breathed a nervous laugh. Priestly studied him for a moment, relishing the sight of bashful Cas.

“C’mon, we got a date.” He spared Cas a reply.

…

Their destination turned out to be a little hole-in-the-wall bar called The Roadhouse. Priestly grinned as the bouncer waved him in, yet stopped Castiel for ID. The cool, sour air of the bar rushed to meet their faces as they entered, along with the throb of loud music and the clink of glass. Bodies were everywhere; lined up on stools at the bar drinking solemnly, hunched over tables chatting happily, leaning over pool tables in concentration. Cas recognized AC/DC over the speakers.

“Hey, Priestly!” came a female voice from behind the bar. Priestly turned and waved back.

“How’s business, Ellen?” The woman beckoned them over, Priestly seizing Cas’ hand and leading the way, sending a jolt through Cas’ heart. Every touch was more potent than the last.

“Good to see you boys tonight, how are ya?” Ellen asked, filling up two beers and sliding them across the counter.

“Great, Ellen. Just bringin’ Cas to The Roadhouse for the first time.” Ellen raised an eyebrow and smiled. Cas studied her face. She was middle-aged, with a smoky voice and kind eyes framed by crow’s feet. Dark curtains of brown hair surrounded her face.

“First time, eh? I knew I didn’t recognize you. Nice to meet ya, Cas. I’m Ellen.” She offered her hand and Cas shook it with a smile.

“Firm handshake, I like that. You boys up for karaoke tonight? Starts in twenty.”

“Hell yeah! That’s why we came out!” Priestly slammed his fist on the table and took a few swallows of beer. Cas paled.

“Oh hon,” Ellen saw his blood-drained face and laughed, “You look terrified. Better start drinking now.” She patted Cas’ hand and winked at Priestly over her shoulder and she went off to help other customers.

“Karaoke? Priestly I can’t… I can’t get up there and sing, I can’t—“

“Hey, Hey, Cas calm down,” he placed a warm hand on Cas’ knee, “Ellen’s just joking around. You don’t have to sing, I promise. You just have to cheer really loud when I do.” He smiled as he brought his glass to his mouth. Cas nodded and took a small sip of beer. Priestly thought flustered Cas was just about the most adorable thing he’d ever seen, and it was all he could not to lean across the stool, place a gentle hand on Cas’ hip, and brush his lips against Cas’ sharp jaw…

“Priestly! Where the hell’ve you been?” he was brought out of his daydream by a pretty blonde waitress, toting a tray of empty glasses.

“It’s been a week, Jo. And I haven’t seen you in the shop since… I can’t remember. C’mon Jo, don’t you like my cooking?”

“Dude, I work night shifts. I’ll be damned if I wake up in the middle of the day to get a fucking sandwich.” Priestly laughed and Cas smiled.

“Who’s this cutie?” She nodded towards Cas, who blushed and looked down. Priestly beamed.

“This is my date. Jo, Cas, Cas, Jo.” Jo flashed a shit-eating grin.

“Date, huh? Damn, Bo. Ya done good.” She made a show of talking behind her hand, but spoke loud enough that Cas could hear her anyway. He hid his face in his drink. Jo seemed to relish in embarrassing him.

“Drink up, both of you. Karaoke’s soon.” She turned and left, turning the heads of a few men at the bar while her golden hair swished behind her. Priestly turned back to Cas.

“Don’t worry about Ellen and Jo. They tease, but they’re harmless.”

“Why did she call you Bo?” Now it was Priestly’s turn to hide his face in his glass. He waved offhandedly.

“Just a nickname. My uh.. Priestly’s my last name and name I prefer. My first name’s Boaz. Bo and Jo, she used to say.” Priestly wasn’t meeting Cas’ eyes. Cas could tell he didn’t like the name Boaz, so he didn’t push the subject.

“Have you known them long?” Cas took another delicate sip. Priestly looked up gratefully.

“Oh yeah, longer than I’ve known Trucker and everyone back at the shop. Ellen used to babysit me, she’s been there for me through everything; a place to run when I’d just had a fight with my dad, wrote me every week in military school, stood by Sammy and I’s side at our Dad’s casket—“ Priestly realized just how much he was talking about his dad and took a gracious gulp of beer. That was a topic for another time. It was Cas’ turn to place a hand on his knee, which he returned with a small smile and tossed back the rest of his beer.

“How about a game of pool before I take the stage?”

…

As it turned out, even with Priestly’s excellent shooting skills, Cas was an even better pool player. He won three games with ease, quick and smooth without missing a shot. Priestly couldn’t tell if it was because Cas was very good, or if he was distracted by the curve of Cas’ lean back over the table, arm flexing as his eyes squinted in determination. Probably both.

By the end of the third game, they’d finished three beers each, as well as Priestly’s three additional vodka shots as a result of losing each game. Priestly was a heavyweight and Cas was a lightweight, so they were about the same level of buzzed. Priestly teased Cas about it while Jo picked up their glasses.

“Don’t give Cas any more to drink, Jo. He might float away.” Cas gently bumped him on the hip and quickly steadied him as Jo snorted.

“Alright well you’re definitely ready for karaoke. Go sing for us, Priestly.” Priestly gave Cas lazy high five and stumbled off to the stage.

“So how long have you two been dating?” Jo asked.

“I don’t think we’re quite dating… This is only our second date.” Jo nodded.

“Do you like him?” Cas suppressed a smile and breathed a nervous laugh into his glass, fogging the inside. Jo smiled.

“Be careful with him; he may look tough, but he’s more vulnerable than you may think.” Cas tried to read the unfathomable look in her eyes for a second before she patted his shoulder and turned on her heel, balancing their glasses on her tray as Cas’ eyes followed her. What a strange thing to say. She spoke as if she’d seen Priestly hurt before.

Cas snapped back into dizzy focus when he heard Priestly grab the microphone. The lights dimmed and Priestly immediately started into the chorus of _Carry On My Wayward Son._

Cas’ jaw dropped. Priestly could _sing._ His voice carried over the speakers, low and smooth. The guitar solo came and Priestly broke into air guitar, bouncing around the stage in his kilt. Cas chuckled.

What was Cas even doing here? A prefect guy like Priestly – smart, funny, unbelievably hot, fearless – was on a date with shaky, quiet, introvert, boring, unattractive Castiel? It had to be a joke. Priestly deserved better, and Cas didn’t deserve this. Cas felt a strong urge to stand up and leave.

His mind was telling him to leave, but his body wouldn’t move. He stood there, tense as he leaned against the edge of the pool table, head swimming with booze and worry, as Priestly serenaded the microphone.

There was only one other solution. Cas was going to get up and sing.

He’d rejected Priestly’s kiss, was he really going to sit on the sidelines when Priestly had brought him to a karaoke bar? He needed to prove to Priestly – and to himself – that he deserved this.

His stomach churned uneasily. If he was going to pull this off, he definitely needed more alcohol.

“Jo!” Cas waved her over, peeling her eyes off of Priestly as a grin plastered her face.

“I think I need something a bit heavier.” Jo looked surprised.

“Like… Jack Daniels heavier or vodka rocks heavier?” Last time Cas had drank vodka, he’s been nineteen, a freshman at college, and he’d woken up in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. He’d abstained from it since, but this was an emergency.

“Vodka rocks, please.”

“Comin’ right up.”

Cas turned his attention back to Priestly, still belting away on the stage. He really was a fantastic performer, entertaining to watch with a syrupy voice that made Cas melt. Cas wondered how soon was too soon to be in love with someone.

The song came to a close and the bar was filled with cheers, Cas the loudest of them all. Ellen whistled from behind the bar. Priestly jumped off the stage, wobbled against a table, and swerved through the crowd back to Cas, eyes alight and face flushed with pink. He threw Cas a grin.

“Priestly…” Cas placed a gentle hand on Priestly’s bicep, “That was… You are so…  I can’t even…” Priestly loved how always-articulate Cas was rendered speechless.

“Isn’t he amazing? Mom and I are always telling him to haul his ass to LA and get signed, but he’d never leave that sandwich shop.” Jo set his drink down on a coaster.

“You are an _amazing_ singer.” Cas held his gaze, staring into his penetrating green eyes and refusing to look away. Priestly’s smile faded for the briefest second while he stared back, a Cheshire cat grin flashing across his face. He gave Cas a quick peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Cas.” He said, smiling into his beer as Cas went pink. Jo stood for a moment, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly agape, then shut it and left wordlessly.

“You – Boaz Priestly – sporting a mohawk and multiple face adornments, just sang _Carry On my Wayward Son_ in a packed bar, wearing a _kilt_. You are the most fearless person I have ever met.”

“Cas, you’re making me blush.” He reached over, took a sip of Cas’ drink, and winced.

“Straight vodka? This tastes like hand sanitizer. Is this date really bad enough that you want to get shit-faced and forget it?”

“I’m having a great time, Priestly. I just need to get a little more drunk if I’m going to sing.” Cas took a swallow and made a face.

“You’re going to sing?” Cas took a deep breath.

“Yes.” He gulped down a few more swallows and shivered.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to sing because I brought you to karaoke night. I just wanted you to meet Ellen and Jo and have a few drinks with me. I wanted to see you.”

“No really, I want to sing.” Cas wasn’t listening, swallowing the rest of his drink. Priestly studied him for a moment, as if he was seeing through Cas’ new brave façade, but said nothing. It was three more songs before Cas started to feel the vodka. He gave Priestly a quick smile and started towards the stage.

“Get ‘em, Cas!” Priestly whistled as Cas wobbled through the tables, head swirling. He reached the stage and after a few minutes of struggle, managed to hoist himself up. He bent over the karaoke machine and pushed the random button, grabbed the microphone, and took a deep breath. He couldn’t see much besides the spotlight on the ceiling, but he could make out Priestly by the pool table, arms crossed and an eager smile across his face. Ellen gave him an encouraging thumbs up from the bar.

The music started and Cas gave a little grin. _Pour Some Sugar On Me_? Priestly better love this.

…

Priestly was going to explode. He thought Cas was adorable before, but that was before he’d seen him, drunk and wobbly, singing Def Leppard slightly off-key and swaying awkwardly like a seventh grader at a school dance. He made Priestly feel like a little girl with a crush. The chorus hit and Cas busted out some smooth hip action, completely unexpected by the crowd and Priestly. He whooped as the crowd whistled, leaving his mouth watering and his dick half-hard.

Priestly hoped Cas wasn’t singing just to impress him, and he had a sinking feeling that he was. He shouldn’t have sung for Cas. It’d made Cas feel like he had something to prove, and he liked Cas just the way he was, from the way his blush creeped onto his neck to his piercing blue eyes to the nervous laugh he breathed out through his soft lips to his constant bedhead. If he could put up with Priestly’s mohawk, piercings, smoking, and drinking, he could put up with Cas’ anxiety, right? Getting Cas plastered and forcing him into karaoke didn’t seem like he was helping Cas too well. Maybe he should take him home.

The song ended and the bar was filled with applause, Priestly cheering loudest of them all. He glanced over at Ellen and Jo, Ellen nodding in approval as Jo winked and gave him a thumbs up. He grinned in return; their approval meant a lot to him.

Cas gingerly made his way back over to Priestly, face serious and tight in determination, shoulders tense and hands clamped in fists.

“Cas, that was the single best thing I have ever seen in my… Cas? Cas are you oka—“

Cas closed the distance between them, wrenching Priestly to him by his hips and catching his mouth with his own. Priestly was caught by surprise, but quickly reciprocated with one hand on Cas’ jaw and one hand gripped tight in his dark hair. Cas’ breath was sharp and sour with alcohol on Priestly’s tongue, hands rough on his waist as he kissed him with the force of every time he’d been too afraid. He eased him gently back onto the pool table, back curved as he growled into Priestly’s mouth—

“Alright! Okay, enough!” Jo called from behind them. They both looked up, irritated.

“No sex on the pool table. Go do it elsewhere.” She waved them over to the door, turning on her heel. Priestly swore he heard her mutter ‘sluts’ under her breath.

…

Cas fumbled with the lock on his door for a good fifteen seconds before he managed to get it in and unlock it. It didn’t help that Priestly was behind him, erection grinding into Cas as his teeth dug into his neck. He managed to open the door and fell face first onto the carpet, Priestly landing on top of him. Cas managed to roll over onto his back while they both laughed. There was several seconds of heated, sloppy, alcohol-tinged kissing before Cas spoke.

“I’m sssorry I didn’t kiss yoooou.” He slurred.

“God Cas, it’s okay.” Priestly swallowed up his words with another gruff kiss.

“No, no, no, really” Cas broke apart again, a finger on Priestly’s mouth, “I reeeeally wanted to.” He blinked, eyes lingering shut for a beat longer than necessary, “It’s juzzzt that I…” his eyelids were heavy, “that I... I wasss worried…” Cas’ eyes closed and his head fell back against the carpet, his breathing deep and heavy.

“Cas?” Priestly shook him.

“Cas!” He didn’t come to, but let out a snore. Priestly sighed. He stood up and closed the door, then carefully leaned over and sat Cas up, hoisting him up on his legs and sweeping an arm underneath them, carrying him bridal style. He wobbled dangerously down the entry to the living room, turning left and to the bedroom. Cas wasn’t heavy at all, but Priestly was still drunk.

He pulled back the covers of the neatly made bed and flopped Cas down on top of the mattress, pulling off his shoes and socks and throwing them on the floor. He carefully unbuttoned Cas’ jeans and shimmied them down Cas’ legs, swallowing when he saw Cas’ boxer briefs. He tucked Cas’ feet underneath the covers and pulled them up over his chest. Cas was still unmoving, mouth hanging open as he slept deeply.

Priestly considered leaving, then realized he’d never be able to walk to the grill and get his car to drive home. He bit his lip, wondering if he should sleep on the couch or crawl into bed with Cas. That was okay, right? It was just sleeping; it wasn’t like Priestly was going to try anything while Cas was unconscious.

He went to Cas’ dresser and rifled through until he found a pair of basketball shorts, sliding of his kilt and pulling them on. Cautiously, he pulled back the covers on the other side of the bed and crawled in. He was careful not to touch Cas as he smiled into the Cas-scented pillow, visions of smooth hips and rough vodka kisses coloring the backs of his eyelids.


End file.
